12 years and a smattering of months ago, Matt Maranian and I were sitting on a plush couch in Chateau Marmont, surrounded by well-wishers like Bill Maher and Richard Lewis as our first book was launched with full-fledged fanfare. It was an ugly little morsel, both visually and materially, that was being met with nothing less than enthusiastic response. Within weeks it climbed to the #1 spot on the L.A. Times non-fiction list. Bookstores sold out as soon as shipments came in. Reviews--what few we received--were decent. Our mugs turned up on CNN and local news shows alike. Our mellifluous voices drifted from the radio.
L.A. Bizarro had arrived.
